


That's My Girl

by bleedinqhearts



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, I think I got all the tags, Jealousy, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, atsumu dicks u down, can u tell that i am a whore 4 atsumu, wait maybe some implied cockwarming at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedinqhearts/pseuds/bleedinqhearts
Summary: Atsumu Miya gets jealous.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 547





	That's My Girl

In your defense, it’s kind of Atsumu’s fault for showing up so late. _He’s_ the one who said that he was going to actually show up to your little coffee date on time for once, _he’s_ the one who showed up late, and _he’s_ the one who chose to get jealous. 

(Not like he’d ever admit to being the last thing.)

You’ve been sitting alone at a table for two in a fairly popular coffee shop that many other young adults frequent, and you’re well aware that sometimes practice runs so late for the Black Jackals that he doesn’t even have the time to send you a simple “I’m running late” text, but _still_. A girl can only handle the pitying stares and occasional glances being thrown your way until you can feel the annoyance towards your fiance’s lateness. 

You trace your ring finger, already missing the feel of the ring that’s supposed to adorn it. You only had it for about one day, the day he proposed, before you two had to take it to get resized. The whole point of this outing was for you two to enjoy each other’s company before going to the jeweler’s to pick up the ring. And of course, he isn’t here. 

He was supposed to be here with you nearly an hour ago, and the cafe’s only getting busier. There are plenty of couples looking for a table, and you’re considering just leaving right now and meeting Atsumu at home until someone else takes his seat. 

It’s the barista who served you, the one who gave you a fifty percent discount on your drink, and might have tried to discreetly ask for your number. He might be easily classifiable as cute, but he’s certainly no Atsumu, and you’re definitely not interested. Regardless, you give him a small, polite smile. 

“Hey. I, uh, couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been sitting here, looking kind of lonely…” He gives you a sheepish smile, and you feel bad because had you not been with Atsumu, this might have been sweet. All the barista serves as, though, is a painful reminder that Atsumu is running late, and you’re getting tired of waiting for him. 

“Believe me, I am.” You roll your eyes. “My fiance is running late.” 

“Oh.” He sounds disappointed at this, and you offer up a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry. I’m sure you’re a nice guy.” 

“Well, you should tell your fiance he’s a lucky guy.” The barista says, before pulling something out of his pocket. “As, an, uh, employee here, we get these free coffee cards, and um, I’m not trying to make a move on you or anything, but I don’t really drink coffee but…” He hands you the gift card, and you shake your head. 

“No! I definitely can’t take this, it’s really sweet of you to do so–”

“I don’t mind! Really!” 

“Well, okay. Thank you so much!” You’re genuinely smiling at him, but the nice moment only lasts for about two seconds until Atsumu Miya finally arrives, dark eyes narrowed at the seemingly _too-friendly_ scene in front of him. 

The barista’s eyes widen at the sight of your fiance; his tall, lean figure, his intense eyes that seem to want to kill him with just a glare, and his thick brows furrowed. 

“My, uh, break’s over. See you around.” He mumbles before scurrying off, leaving you to face the wrath of Atsumu alone. 

You cringe at him saying “see you around”. Before you can open your mouth to explain to Atsumu what just went down, he takes the seat directly next to you, still staring sharply at the now anxious looking barista who’s practically cowering behind his coworkers even though he’s all the way across the cafe. 

“I’m late for what? An hour? And suddenly you wanna get friendly to other guys?” He snaps, turning to look at you. You frown. 

“Try an hour and a half. And before you jump to even more conclusions, he _knows_ that I’m engaged. He was just trying to keep me company.” You try to match Atsumu’s sharp tone, but you can’t quite get enough edge on your words to do so. 

“He keeps fucking starin’ at you.” Your fiance grumbles, more to himself than you. A calloused hand finds its way to rest on top of one of your thighs, absentmindedly moving up and down against the thin material of your skirt. You put a hand over his, but he doesn’t stop; he just keeps glaring in the general direction of the boy who was talking to you, and before you can tell Atsumu that maybe he keeps staring because Atsumu looks like he’s about to commit murder, Atsumu’s hand moves away from yours and decides to make itself at home up your skirt. 

You squeeze your thighs together tightly, trapping his hand, which causes him to glance over at you, and despite him still being equal parts angry and jealous, he still finds it in himself to fucking _smirk_ at you. 

No one’s really looking in your direction, and from the angle the table is situated, no one can really see what’s happening unless they’re working behind a certain section of the counter, and the only person working in this section…is the barista who spoke to you. _Of fucking course_.

“Atsumu, not here!” You hiss, elbowing him, but all he does is use his free hand to pull open your legs, and before you can close them again, he’s muttering under his breath. 

“You wanted to put a show for him, smiling and shit at him. Why don’t you give him a real show, huh, babe?” 

You pale at what he’s hinting he’s about to do, but before you can protest against this god awful idea, he’s stroking you through your panties, panties that are embarrassingly a little wet, and only getting wetter with the more friction he adds. 

“ _Fuck_. Don’t tell me you’re already getting hot an’ bothered?” His voice is low, his dark eyes still focused on the boy behind the counter, a boy who – bless his soul – is trying hard to ignore the fact that your fiance is about to finger fuck you in a crowded cafe, and you three are the only ones aware that this is happening. 

“’Tsumu, this is such a bad idea.” You whisper weakly, but you can’t tell him that any reasonable person would know this is a bad idea because he decides to slide your panties to the side. The moment his index finger slips inside of you, you have to bite down on your bottom lip to ensure that you don’t moan out in public. “ _Atsumu_ -” He starts to pump his finger in and out of you, looking at you innocently. 

“Yeah, babe?” He asks, adding his middle finger to the mix. You’re lucky it’s so loud in the cafe; the lewd sounds of him finger fucking your wet cunt might have been heard otherwise. You shake your head, but you can’t find it in yourself to talk normally. All you can do is keep your mouth shut and pray to some higher power that no one notices what’s going on. 

Atsumu watches as the barista stares at your table, and you know that you’re on display for him to see. Even worse, the barista is still staring, despite the orders coming in on his side, and Atsumu starts to curl his fingers while they’re still inside of you. 

“You like this, huh?” Atsumu whispers in your ear. You can feel his breath against your ear, and all you can do is grip the corner of the table. “You’re practically his own private little pornstar, aren’t ya? You like having your pretty little pussy on display for that fucker to see?” He shoves his fingers in you more forcefully, his thumb rubbing against your clit harshly. “ _Answer me_.”

“ _N-no_.” You gasp out, but all he does is continue with this brutal pace, rubbing hard circles on your clit and continuously pumping his fingers. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him right now, but you just know he has the smuggest look on his face as leans closer.

“I think you’re lyin’ to me, babe. You know what I think?” He’s knuckles deep in you, and you can’t help but let a tiny moan slip out. Thankfully, no one turns to look at you. “I think you like that that little bastard is probably getting hard watching me and you right now. I think that he’s imagining that he’s the one that’s about to make you cum. But-” He emphasizes what he’s about to say with a particular sharp thrust upwards that has you biting so hard on your bottom lip that blood nearly gets drawn out. “-he’ll never get the chance. _Fuck_.” He hisses, feeling the way you’re clenching around his fingers. “You tightened right the fuck up.” 

“‘ _Tsumu_.” You moan out, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

“Aw, you want to cum, baby?” He coos, and you know that he’s not going to let you the moment you feel his fingers slip out of you. You clench around nothing, and you almost consider begging him to pretty please just continue on with what he was originally doing, barista watching the two of you be damned, but all you can do is whimper and stare in amazement as your boyfriend holds up his fingers, shiny with your juices all over it, and licks them clean. 

“I bet you taste better than anything else on the menu, huh, babe?” He jokes, his eyes flickering from you to the counter, where the barista is quick to rush to the employee’s only room the moment he meets eyes with Atsumu. You’re definitely never going to this cafe ever again, but before you can consider the options of what the two of you are going to do now, Atsumu is dragging you out of your seat and leading you to the bathrooms. 

“Atsumu, some people could seriously need to use the restroom!” You yelp out as he pushes you in the single stall bathroom, following you inside, and locking the door.

“I don’t fucking care.” He mutters, pushing you towards the sink before lifting you up and making you sit on it. The edge of the sink is digging uncomfortably in your thighs, but you can’t focus on the pain whenever Atsumu’s kissing you like it’s the last thing he’s ever going to do. When you need a moment to breathe, he continues to kiss you, opting to go for any centimeter of skin that’s accessible to him. Your neck is fair game, and when he sucks hard with the full intention of leaving a lasting mark, all you can do is moan out and grip his hair. 

When he finishes covering your neck in a myriad of hickeys and love bites, he wastes no more time, pulling down his track pants and bunching up your skirt around your waist. He doesn’t want to spend any more time maneuvering around to pull your panties off, so he all does is push them aside once more. He looks down at the sight of your wet pussy, smiling at you, but it isn’t mocking, even if his tone sort of is. 

“Is this all for me?” He teases, like he didn’t just finger you in public. 

“Yes!” You answer, your cunt dripping and aching to be filled. The sight of you wet and needy for him is too much for him to resist, and with no more prep necessary, he slides in you. 

He’s met with little resistance, save for the fact that you’ve always been a little tight, and he’s certainly above average in both length and girth. You’re soaking, and when he pulls out only to thrust back in you again, his dick is practically shining underneath the lights, coated in your slick arousal.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and he’s gripping your hips, making you meet him halfway with every thrust. He’s being rough and quick, chasing after a fast orgasm. He’s groaning out your name in between curses, and he’s relentless with his brutal, fast pace. 

“Can’t believe that fucking idiot bothered you.” He growls, gripping your hips even harder as he slams into you. You’re too busy getting fucked to tell him that the boy was certainly not bothering you. 

“He’s lucky I was in such a good mood. Y’know, not everyone gets to see a pussy as pretty yours. So wet, so tight, and all for _me_ , isn’t. That. Right?” Each word is punctuated with a sharp thrust.

All you can do is cry out his name as speeds things along. He’s rough with his thrusts, and when he feels you tighten up once more, he knows you’re close. This time, he allows you the chance to cum all over him, and he makes an effort to try to reach deeper inside you. 

“ATSUMU!” You sob out, your arms reaching to pull him closer as you bury your head in the space between his neck and shoulder. 

“Fuck!” He groans out, before following it up with a shout of your name. You can feel him spilling inside of you, and your legs loosen their grip on his waist as you cum with him, crying out his name over and over again. 

He takes a minute to recuperate, sliding his softening dick out of you. You both look like you’ve just run two miles and got chased by a pack of rabid dogs while you were at it, but he presses a surprisingly soft and sweet kiss on your lips before observing the damage. Your neck is littered with hickeys, ones that you can’t hide right now, and when he looks down, there’s a mixture of his cum and yours. The sight of it only makes him want to fuck you some more, and he looks almost disappointed as you readjust your panties. You cringe as you feel how wet they are, but it serves as a sufficient enough barrier to stop from having your fiance’s cum dripping all over the floor once you stand up. 

The two of you rush out of the coffee shop shortly after, you taking extra care in avoiding the barista, and Atsumu going out of his way to shoot him a cocky smirk. 

━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━

You know that as a pro athlete, Atsumu Miya has a better stamina and endurance than your average man, but after the dicking down he gave you less than thirty minutes ago, you’re a little shocked that he still has enough energy to go another round.

Not that you’re necessarily complaining about it. 

“Fuck! How do you feel so fucking good?” He growls, relishing in the way your walls are squeezing his dick _just right._ Calloused hands, hardened from years of volleyball, are stretching your legs just a little bit higher. He wants to go deeper, and he won’t cum until he’s pumping his seed straight into your womb. 

He loves this about you. Loves how willing you are to give in to him every single time, even though he might push you over the edge. He knows that his jealousy was a little outrageous, but he just can’t help it. You’re _his_. His to love, his to kiss, his to _fuck_. You can feel his cock pressing inside of you, deeper than it’s ever been, and all you can do is keep moaning out his name, staring up at him so adoringly, reverently, _lovingly_. 

You can feel your orgasm coming, and all you do is arch your back, allowing him to try to push himself impossibly deeper inside of you while you cum all over his dick for the second time this day. He loves the way you feel when you’re cumming; your walls clamp down on his cock, and he lets out a hiss at the feeling. 

No one else can make you feel this good. It’s not some stranger’s name you’re moaning out for, it’s _his_. It’s his cum that’s going to fill your pussy up, and it’s his child that you’re going to carry. The thought of you with a growing belly, carrying a living thing that the two of you created together, spurs him to thrust harder and deeper into you. 

That idiot barista – a complete nobody he shouldn’t feel so threatened by – approached you because he thought you were available. He seriously needs to pick up your ring for you, to ward off any other idiots who want to make a move on you. He’s lifting a leg over his shoulder, pounding relentlessly into you, and the overstimulation of having him still thrusting wildly into even though you’ve already orgasmed is blurring the lines between intense pleasure and mild pain. 

“Tell me who’s fucking you so good, tell me who you love–” He grunts, feeling the overwhelming surge of pleasure overtake him as he’s about to empty his load right inside of you, once again. “–tell me whose baby you’re gonna be carryin’!” 

“Yours, yours, _yours_!” You say, eyes wide at his last statement, but thoroughly enjoying it nonetheless. 

He releases the moment you confirm that you’re his, painting your insides white and leaving so much that both of your cum starts to leak out of your thoroughly fucked cunt. 

He’s a little out of breath, strands of hair are sticking to his sweaty forehead, and he wants nothing more than to just spend the rest of the night under the sheets with you, not fucking, but just enjoying your soft embrace. 

Before he can pull out, you stop him. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks, concern evident all over his face.

“Well, don’t let all your hard work go to waste.” You tell him, an innocent smile adorning your beautiful face. “You did say I was going to carry your baby.” 

Fuck. He’s so in love with you right now.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” He caresses your cheek, a tender touch that juxtaposes what just transpired nearly three minutes ago. 

“It’s okay if it doesn’t work this time.” You say, yawning a little, the effect of getting fucked by your fiance twice in one day catching up to you. “We can always try some more…” 

He smiles at you, his heart swelling with pride and love. “That’s my girl.”


End file.
